


An Inevitability

by Atroposisms



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Amputation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Eroguro, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Guro, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Obsession, One Shot, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atroposisms/pseuds/Atroposisms
Summary: Slowly but surely, he wiped away anything in you that wasn't centered around him.





	An Inevitability

**Author's Note:**

> For R. Thank you for editing.
> 
> Mind the tags.
> 
> Sorry I changed the title lmao
> 
> Tumblr @ atroposisms

Null.  
If you try hard enough, you think you can remember the beginnings of your relationship with him.

Really, it was just like any other: the first few dates wrought with an unspoken awkwardness as the both of you tried to suss out how interested the other party was, the cute ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ texts that he would send without fail every day, the evening conversations that soon spanned into the late hours of the night until one of you fell asleep on the other.

How your heart raced the first time he kissed you, how _sweet_ it was. Your hand tugging at the sleeve of his coat to stop him from turning away, you, shyly, asking if he would do it again.

His smile.

Those memories come with a little bit of effort, but anything before that is lost in a daze, and you struggle to recall life before him. Which in Akechi’s book is all well and good - it’s what he wants.

  
I.  
You thought his little jealousies cute at first.

He would take hold of your hand, squeezing hard, his smile becoming brittle whenever one of your college friends sought your attention. The way he’d get a little carried away the next time he kissed you, a hand on the small of your back to press your body against his. You liked the way he sought your attention and lavished affection on you.

“Don’t leave,” he’d say, catching hold of your wrist whenever you rose to leave, to pull you back into his bed. “Stay, please, stay.” And you would, running your fingers through his hair as he tugged you against him.

It got worse. Of course it did.

Harsher kisses, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, the marks he’d leave on your neck that were difficult to hide from others. Commanding your attention at any given moment and sulking quietly whenever you had to leave him. The harsh whispers of mine, mine, _mine_ as he had you under his body, as you cried out his name.

Cliche but true: you didn’t notice just how much _worse_ it became until it was too late.

 

II.  
You were crying, he was crying.

You wanted to take a break, to think things through. It had reached the point where his possessiveness was no longer cute, and you couldn’t handle it. His ugly thoughts were more obvious now, hissing through the air as palpable as static, curling about him like a snake.

“Don’t, don’t fight me, _please…._ ” Akechi was begging, voice catching in his throat. Try as you might, you couldn’t break free of him, your wrists caught in his grip, his body deadweight on yours. Any attempts to buck him off failed miserably. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay, I’ll take care of you.”

Your struggles had only intensified.

“Sh, sh, shh…” His eyes were wide with fear. This wasn’t the reaction he had wanted; this was not how he thought things would happen. All his careful plans and rehearsed conversations dashed to dust and scattered.

Reduced to this desperate struggle.

You couldn’t quite remember. Maybe you were screaming incoherently, maybe you were just sobbing - you’re not sure. You knew you just wanted some _noise_ to block out what he was saying, those attempts at soothing platitudes.

Slowly, slowly, though, you stilled, the drugs he had laced drink with working its way through your system. When he was sure you were no longer conscious, he let go of you and rose from the bed. Hand shaking, he brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, caressed your cheek. When he regained his composure, he fixed the collar about your neck, locking it into place.

Then, with all the reverence of handling a holy object, Akechi carried you and placed you inside the large, plush cage by his bed.

 

III.

Akechi reached through the bars of the cage to try and stroke your hair, sighed when you scrambled back, out of his reach.

“I don’t want you in here either,” he said, hand still outreached like he hoped that you’d crawl forth and let him touch you, as if you had been some feral cat he wished to pet.

You were silent, turning your face away from him.

“I’d rather you be good so I could have you in my bed again.” _Please._

Still no response, and you looked anywhere but at him, tried to think about anything but him. You failed miserably.

With a final sigh, he stood and began to ready himself for bed.

Neither of you slept well.

The cage - large and well-furnished, essentially a bedroom in miniature - was comfortable for what it was. He had spared no expense in making sure it had, technically, all the things you needed: a futon heaped with plush blankets and pillows, a stack of novels that he knew you enjoyed, even a tablet with shows and movies (but no internet access, of course). Akechi had even taken from your apartment one of your stuffed animals, placed carefully on the futon for when you woke up.

You lay there, thoughts roiling over one another, a mess that you couldn’t pick apart no matter how hard you tried. Akechi could hear you tossing and turning for hours, and he tried not to do the same.

His bed felt too empty, too cold without being able to curl about your warmth, bury his face in your hair. It just felt….incomplete to not have you in his arms. It had only been a few days, but the scent of your perfume had dissipated from his pillows, and he missed it dearly.

Quietly, he undid the padlock for the cage, crawled inside. Your chest rose with the deep, even breaths of sleep. He slid underneath the covers, had to stifle a little moan as he felt your skin against his. Akechi tucked his face against your shoulder, and smiled.

  
  
IV.

His hands slid up your inner thighs, and as always, he watched to see how you would react, to make sure the dose he had given you would be enough. You stirred, still awake and aware, but sedate enough that you couldn’t fight and resist. Perfect.

“Akechi…” You slurred, trying to sit up, but the world tilted violently as dizziness overwhelmed you.

“Careful,” he murmured, “don’t strain yourself.”

Your mouth moved, you tried to say something, but pulling together more than a single word was a struggle.

He pushed your legs apart, settled between them. Felt how wet you were, pushing in two fingers with ease. Your body twitched a little at that, the drugs not doing anything to dampen the feeling of what he was doing to you.

Sliding his cock inside of you always felt like bliss, and it took him a moment to gather himself.

“I know you love me,” Akechi said, his words making their blurred way to you, “I _know_ you do.” Why else would you make him feel so good right now?

More attempts at a refusal from you.

He shushed you, kissed the tip of your nose, your cheek. Your world was reduced to his body atop yours, the feeling of him thrusting inside of you, and the humiliating burn of how he was still able to make you moan beneath him.

 

V.

The drugs and Akechi eventually took their toll on you.

You lay curled on his bed, one hand buried between your thighs and rubbing your clit, the other clutching the pillow Akechi used to your face. You were dripping (when were you not?), but frustration had you crying.

Try as you might, you couldn’t cum. Every fantasy that started off with someone, anyone else, was eventually subsumed by ones of Akechi, images and thoughts of him eroding their way inside of you. Even attempts at imagining him touching you, speaking to you in his adoring voice, wasn’t _enough._ You needed him, needed his hands on you, his voice in your ear, needed him to fuck you.

You sobbed pitifully, fingers still rubbing away.

Close, but it’s not close enough.

 

VI.

You ate when he fed you, slept when he carried you to his bed, wore the clothes that he bought for you. You let him make those decisions - what point was there in resisting now when it would just lead to more sedatives? - and learned to repeat the words that he wanted to hear.

_I love you. I adore you, I’ll never leave you. You’re all that I could ever want, Akechi._

He would smile in response - you still thought his smile gentle, beautiful - and so you would say those things that he wanted, repeating them until they were as normal as breathing.

The cage hadn’t been used in some time now.

“How about we go to that cafe you like?”

Your head shot up, confusion writ on your face. The privilege of being able to go outside, to actually leave his home, was one that you couldn’t pass up.

So you smiled at him, saw how happy it made him, and reached for his hand, twined your fingers with his. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

The sunlight and soft breeze on your face was heaven, the bustle of the city street bringing forth memories of your life before…. _this._ Even with his arm wrapped tightly about your waist, keeping you close to him, you found yourself enjoying this little bit of freedom.

It didn’t last long.

Just having the poor barista smile at you as he handed you your coffee was enough to send all of Akechi’s ugly little thoughts hissing, crawling over and around him like centipedes, skittering and whispering that he should do something, _anything,_ to take care of this. The crackling of static rose to its peak when you smiled back at the employee, and he wanted to take you away, to erase today from your memories so that there was only him.

“We’re going home,” he murmured flatly into your ear, and his grip on your wrist was tight enough to leave bruises.

 

VII.

“I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ,” you managed through your tears, lying still beneath him as you gave up resisting. He was hurting you, holding your hands so tightly his nails dug into the backs of your hands. He was punishing you, biting at your neck and shoulder, leaving vivid bruises. He was making you cum again as he fucked you, chasing away the people and the cafe and the barista, replacing all of it with the overwhelming pleasure he was forcing you to feel.

You hated that he could do this to you, so you tried to think of something else, not him, _not him_.

“I love you,” he whispered before kissing you.

You turned your head away. “It _hurts_.”

Akechi stilled, then let go of one hand to gently turn your face towards him. He kissed your tears away.

“I simply want to be the only one you think about.” His fingers stroked your cheek. There was a desperation to his voice that made your chest tighten in disappointment that you couldn’t give him that. “I don’t want you to ever leave.”

“You are,” you said, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them. “I won’t.”

 

VIII.

Akechi nodded at the doctor as the man took his leave, dressed in plain clothes and carrying his supplies in a discreet suitcase. Enough money had been paid, and the man knew that his greatest asset was not his medical skills, but that his silence could be bought. It wouldn’t do for a black market professional to have a reputation for gossip.

The check-up had gone well, according to the doctor. No signs of sepsis, or skin breakdown. Drainage was normal, as were your vitals - shockingly so, considering what had happened.

In the converted spare room, you lay in bed, an IV feeding you a steady drip of morphine. You had only been brought out of heavy sedation only a few times to feed you, to perform a neurological exam. On the nightstand lay the sheet of post-operative instructions, as well as a burner phone and a number to call if any signs of infection were noted.

Akechi tugged pulled aside the blanket covering the lower half of your body, checked the bandages that wrapped about what remained of your thighs, and admired the doctor’s handiwork.

 

IX.

If Akechi thought he could avoid breaking you, he would have done so. It was never his intention to hurt you like this, but really, it was for the best. It was heaven, it was rapture, it was everything he had ever wanted and more to have you with him forevermore. No more means of escape, no more fighting.

You were already perfect, but you had moved beyond that. _Everything_ was now perfect: your only future with him, to be lavished with adoration and affection. Your days would begin and end with him, every memory and feeling to be filled with him.

 

X.

If you could remember life prior to Akechi, you think maybe you would have regrets. That there would be a list so long that it could wrap about the earth. That perhaps your past self would, by some twist of fate, recognize all the little signs that led to this.

But try as you might, you’re unable to remember.

Really, it’s not worth expending the energy to try.

Instead, you whine softly, a needy little noise, and Akechi smiles indulgently at you, picks you up to balance you in his lap. With a case file he’s working on in one hand, he uses his other to rub gently, teasingly, at your clit.

“Much easier now, isn’t it, without anything extraneous to get in the way?” He turns his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Yes,” you moan and you close your eyes, relax against his chest. “Please, please don’t leave me, Akechi.”

You know that he’s smiling.


End file.
